


As unshakable as the plague

by merrymaya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Epistolary burns, F/M, Humor, If Cinderella can love a prince she met at a party..., KingslayaaaaaAAAHH, M/M, Na!, Romantic!stalker!Jaime, Then Jaime can love Brienne because she is a badass, burns all around, crack!fic, exasperated Brienne, yes it works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2020-12-02 00:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20947805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymaya/pseuds/merrymaya
Summary: After a lot of failures, Jaime despaired ever meeting a decent Lady and true love. Luckily, she finally appeared in his life.Jaime is thrilled, and determined. His Lady may be the exact opposite.





	1. The world is dark and full of hunters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JailynnW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JailynnW/gifts).

> Hello Braime fans!
> 
> Here's another crack fic featuring stalker!Jaime. Apparently, it is a big kink of mine. So I should at least have fun with it.
> 
> This is gifted to JailynnW who loves it the best ^^. 
> 
> A big hello to all my friends in Braime without Borders WhatsApp group. We have now members in 6 countries of BraimeLand! I hope Braime love have fans on the moon as well. ^^ Know that our conversations brighten my days! 
> 
> Thanks to all those who read my stories ^^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are wandering hands, stalking people and a love at first sight

Jaime was bored, not that the nobles around him would know that. He hated King’s Landing and he couldn’t understand why he was still here. 

He had been released from the Kingsguard after Robert Baratheon took the city. He had been praised for killing the Mad King and saving the population of the capital, proudly nicknamed ‘Kingslayer’. He was loved by all, and it was even worse now that he was officially Lord of Casterly Rock. What had been love had turned into reverence, even adulation. What a title he had: Jaime Lannister, Kingslayer, Lord of Casterly Rock!

At least officially. Because Tywin was still the Lord of Everything in truth. His first and only mission as Lord Lannister was to marry and make heirs by the dozen. So has the darkth Lordth spoken. And so was Jaime the Screwedth stuck in the Red Keep, pursued, no...hunted every day by vicious creatures.

The most vicious of them being his sister. While he would have welcomed her chasing after him before, her wedding with Robert for the sake of being Queen signed the end of their relationship for him. That she would sell her body and forsake their love for power opened his eyes to her true ambitions. He refused to play the lover in a couple where he should have been the husband. Now every attempt to seduce him looked ridiculous or pathetic and all were an insult to him as a man. He winced at the fact that he had fallen for some of them. He was infuriated with her and himself. He was more than just a dick for her pleasure. He had a soul! He was a romantic! 

He wanted romance and flowery language. Where was the perfect love? Where was the magic, for Seven’s sake! 

The sonnets, the walks in the meadows, plucking flowers for his lady love and putting them in her hair, tumbling in the hay and being allowed to be a little naughty, helping his lady cross a muddy road, riding together towards the sunset, timid kisses in a dark alcove, getting his Lady’s favor and crown her his Lady of love and beauty… he wanted to experience all the innocent thrills of pure love. The likes he never had with Cersei. 

He had tried to find his true love in the multitude of well-bred Ladies of noble lineage. And the Seven know that he had only to pick and choose. After some disappointing experiences, he decided that those vultures were not to his taste. He shuddered and thought about his new project. Send a letter to all these ladies’ fathers and ask to redo their education. Especially how to conduct themselves near a member of the male persuasion. 

The methods used to try to ‘get him’ had been numerous and some had even deserved points for originality. Had it all happened to someone else, he would have laughed or applauded according to the case. It just angered him. As an icon of peace and goodwill, he had been told to ‘appreciate his luck and suck it up’. When somebody will need to slay King Robert, he will gladly offer his services.

He had been ambushed everywhere. He could endure women pushing their chests in his arms, touching his muscles in appreciation and gasping over his prowess in the courtyard. That was expected. He was beautiful, and strong, and skilled. He would be vexed if he didn’t get that. 

He could deal with the clouds of perfumes, the imprint of painted lips on his jerkin from an overly eager Lady Lysa Tully, the wandering hands sliding a little too far down his back of Lady Selyse Baratheon or scratches on the skin of his wrists by a sexually frustrated Lady Florent.

He drew the line at the wanton thing who had waited in the bath chamber of the Keep when he came to take his bath. He would never have entered if he had known she had been there. He didn’t expect someone to wait ‘underwater’. Luckily for him, he was with a servant and she fainted when she saw his nude form and returned underwater. Luckily for her, he sent his servant to fish her out. He regretted it afterwards because he could nearly see the plans forming in her empty head every time he crossed her path. Still, she had been the closest to really surprise him. Now, he only took a bath in his chambers after stabbing the filled bathtub with a spear. Just to check. The brazen Lady invading his bed at night was a common occurrence. He had to shame three of those hussies by always entering his chamber with his friends for a last drink for the word to spread and those attempts to dwindle. He had to threaten his servants to not sell his clothes nor any lock of cut hair to eager women. He had heard from Cersei that there had been a furious auction over one of his irreparably torn chemises. Preposterous! He should get the coins at least!

He shuddered again and took a sip of wine. Only a sip because more would lead to intoxication and one of those ravenous creatures would take advantage of him. He couldn’t see himself with one of them. He couldn’t understand why Robert tried to collect more than one. Actually, the fact that Cersei didn’t kill him for the infidelities was even more surprising. He looked at his sister. She was getting old, surely. He shook his head in commiseration. He had heard that some illnesses contracted through sexual intercourse could affect one’s head. He would suggest it to her, she should get examined by a maester. Pycelle was obviously useless.

A generic woman pretended to fall and was on the verge of colliding with his chest. He did the helpful thing and moved aside. One should kiss the floor in reverence at least once to understand that long dresses were technically a bad idea. She would be grateful for the lesson… eventually. Or she would bow and worship a lot of floors.

Now, one may call him cruel but one didn’t see what happened when he was helpful _stupidly naive_ and save a maiden _surely debatable_ from an unfortunate collision. The following sennight had seen an impressive number of maidens forgetting the art of _walking_ and developing new-born calf legs around him. When Generous Selina (and not for pecuniary reasons) did the same he decided that he was done being gallant _stupidly naive. 

Now, one can protest that he couldn’t know in advance if it was a true fall or a coldly calculated slip. He actually could. On her way to the floor, the aesthetic expression of polite shock on his attacker’s pretty face had morphed into true fear of humiliation by nose-smashing, and the delicate ‘aah’ sound in her mouth had changed into a_not so beautiful anymore_ ear-shattering shriek.

He stayed to enjoy the sight, because he deserved a little prize for all he had endured, when a hand shoot quickly and grasped the noble goose’s arm. She was rescued from her nose-dive a second before it was too late but the shriek died more slowly, withering slowly in the sudden silence of the Court until nothing was heard anymore.

Jaime was pouting internally and decided to tell the odious person to rescue someone else next time. His eyes followed the hand to its owner. They traveled along the blue sleeve, up, up, up _when did he ever have to tilt his head _up_?_ to a masculine jaw, full big chapped lips, a broken nose _did she try this technique too?_ and fantastic blue eyes. He stopped breathing for a second. He did a second check, more thoughtful this time. Long blue gown covering what must be the longest legs he had ever seen, little teats _but how much did a man really need?_ long thick neck and masculine face with short __short_!_ pale blond hair. He focused back on her eyes. Fantastic beautiful blue eyes, nearly sky-like in their color, and frowning at him surrounded by crimson freckled skin. He frowned too. The blue eyes were really frowning at him.

“You should be ashamed, my Lord!” the woman spat in anger and he startled. Who dared talk that way to him those days? Nobody, that’s who. She then proceeded to ignore him_HIM!!!_ to ask the girl how she was. He bit his lip voluptuously and bodily squirmed. He had made his choice. His Lady Love finally came to him! 

He reviewed his mental plan. The flowers, the walks in the light of the moon...yadda, yadda... and adjusted them a little. He would throw her into a bed first. Do terribly wicked things to her first. THEN, they would have pure love. With long bouts of horny-dirty-torrid and frankly scandalous sex to spice it up. His ‘sword’ wasn’t consenting to wait for pure love and was already indicating its eagerness to be introduced with her ‘sheath’.

As his mind generously provided him with imagery of wanton fornication with his other half, the rescued lady opened wide eyes at her savior and proceeded to snort at her with anger and disgust. She took her arm forcefully away, startling his intended with the ungratefulness of it all, and proceeded to go away quickly without even a word of gratitude. His giantess just blinked in surprise then shrugged and went away. He still had the time to catch a glimpse of hurt in her eyes before she turned her back on him and left. The ingrate will kiss the floor before the night was over, he swore!

It took him some seconds to react. He run to Tyrion who had his back facing him, just took him by the armpits and making him spill his drink on his doublet in surprise, then whirled around and took to a run with a cursing Tyrion still in his arms. He posted himself in view of his betrothed, and said simply, “Who is she?” 

“The Maiden’s lost sister,” was the annoyed answer, “What are you talking about?!” Tyrion wiped his wet hands on Jaime’s sleeves, tainting the pristine green velvet with red smears of wine. “And you owe me a new doublet!” 

“Tyrion, concentrate!!!” growled Jaime while shaking his little brother none too gently up and down quickly. When he stopped, Tyrion was fairly growling himself, “I hope you do not pet your snake that way or your lovers will be in for a nasty shock.” Jaime released him immediately in disgust. 

“By the Warrior, you are crude!” said Jaime with a grimace. 

“By the Crone’s pendulous teats, you are rude!” retorted Tyrion with a nasty smile showing all his teeth.

“Will you leave me alone if I tell you her name?” Jaime nodded his head dutifully. Tyrion eyed the crowd again. “Would you deign to tell me whose woman we are talking about first or should I name them all?” he waved at the sea of nobles Ladies in front of them. The taller brother looked around then smiled when he saw her, “Near Renly by the Iron Throne, tall blonde woman with the blue gown, eyes of the purest blue like bluebells and long legs to damn a man to the Seven He-”

“Please stop,” the dwarf covered his ears in dismay, disgust obvious on his face, “when you sprout poetry, I loose one inch of my height and I do not have a lot left.”

“I do not sprout a lot of poetry,” said Jaime indignant.

“Yes, and it is so bad that the little you created made me a dwarf. You understand my apprehension,” retorted Tyrion sarcastically. 

“You will lose the little height you have in an instant if you do not tell me what I want to know!” hissed Jaime unamused. 

“Father, is that you?” Tyrion gasped in mock horror. Jaime just glared at him. Tyrion just sighed, “Yes, my Lord!” Tyrion rolled his eyes and proceeded to locate the object of his brother's fascination. “Hummmm, by Renly, by Rennnnlyyyyyyy… Is that a woman?” he asked while squeezing his eyes. He then screamed from the harsh blow on his head. “Is that a way to treat your dwarf-brother?!!!” he exclaimed while rubbing his head.

“Is that a way to refer to your future good-sister?” retorted Jaime seriously. 

Tyrion looked at him fixedly. When Jaime didn’t refute his words, Tyrion looked again at the giantess.“This woman is Brienne of Tarth, daughter of Lord Selwyn of the Sa-”

“Thank you, Tyrion. You are dismissed! Shoo! Shoo!” Jaime waved his hand at Tyrion to go away without even looking at him. 

“Asshole!” Tyrion grumbled, “I can’t believe I have to depend on you for financial means!” He walked away quickly but not before hearing a ‘and don’t you forget it!’ by Jaime. Tyrion made a rude gesture and went in search of wine. 

Jaime stared at his wife with exalted eyes. “Briennnnnnneeeeeeeeee,” he cooed with a big smile. 

Tyrion shivered violently. He needed a strong, potent wine to forget this night!

  


☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☼ ☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽

  


He sat for supper with a grimace. His status, as well as his fraternal relationship with the Queen, granted him a seat at the Royal table dominating the room. While it gave him a perfect view of his goddess, it made for a miserable dinner. First, because he would have preferred to sit near his Lady and bask in her presence. Secondly, because of the hand crawling into his lap. 

He could solve the first problem by just sitting near her tomorrow. With his rank, he could pretty much do what he wanted. He could sit on her lap and nobody would say a thing. Pity that she would probably protest and make frowning blue eyes. He could at least solve the second problem immediately. The stifled shriek and rapidly blinking eyes of his sister showed proof of his success. The nasty spider on his lap rapidly departed to its den and his sister rubbed the hand that he had cruelly pinched with a black look in his direction.

“Only one pair of hands has the right to crawl into my lap from now on…” he began with a nonchalant whisper as he speared a piece of meat with his knife. He put the piece in his mouth and savored the taste. He frowned suddenly, “I also hate to remind you _again_ that we ar-”

“You have a lover?” Cersei cut in and looked at him fixedly, a curious expression on her face. 

He understood why. The women he had bedded had been few and his last attempt had happened a few years ago. Every one of them had pushed his sister into black fits of jealousy. While she _most of the time_ accepted that they were through (The matter of her wandering hands were less about him than about the fact that her hands searched for cocks as much as her mouth searched for wine. They were not very picky hands or mouth!), it was easier for her when he was alone. She probably thought that he was abstaining because she was the only one. That would be the kind of convoluted thinking she would have. Showed how little she knew. 

“Yes,” his sigh must have shown all the longing in his voice because she smirked nastily.

“Does she even know?” Trust his sister to go for the throat first. No patience at all in this one. 

“Not yet. I’ll have to ease her into it, it seems,” he answered, not worried at all. His finger slowly traced a line on the pristine cloth on the table, the same path his eyes traveled on the line of her spine. He shivered in anticipation. He hoped she will shiver too when he finally gets to practice on her. 

“Since when do you need to ‘ease’ a woman into anything?” snorted Cersei with disdain. “They are all ready to fall down and open their legs at your command. Pathetic swines!” She took a generous sip of wine.

“You would know all about it, sister!” he whispered with a nasty smile. Cersei contented herself with drinking the contents of her cup for a suspiciously long time. He suspected that she tried to inhale the cup’s very essence. “And about her…” he trailed off dreamily, “she is not the type to fawn over me. Isn’t it grand?!” he asked with a smile. “To have to work for her affections will make her surrender sweeter and her love more worthy. Ahh! To finally have a worthy object to my affections!” He looked at his Lady fondly and swore she shivered under his gaze. He sighed happily. Already, they were connected. He continued to look at her and ignore his sister’s increasing anger. He knew his Lady love would look at him eventually.

Cersei was frowning at the seated nobles beneath them, trying to mentally fry all the potential recipients of his tender devotion. He smirked and ate a buttered piece of roasted beet. It was made more delicious with the warmth of scorching love and the tang of his twin’s bitterness. A real sweet and sour treat for the tongue and the heart.

Finally, Cersei grunted in defeat, “Who is the lucky contestant to the title of Lady Lannister?” she asked nonchalantly, her face a careful mask of neutrality. It was a failure of epic proportions. While she spent considerable efforts into schooling her face to show nothing, the hand gripping her knife in a tight grip showed her real feelings. He pointedly looked at her hand. She glanced at it too then grimaced. Her grimace intensified when she tried to release the knife and it stuck to her palm for a second before falling on her meal. The twins looked at each other and a lengthy wordless conversation passed between them. It was cut out when Cersei looked down in apparent submission. Jaime was not fooled for a second but he would take it. They knew each other intimately _Jaime grimaced for it was too true, unfortunately. 

“You didn’t tell me her name yet, dear brother,” said Cersei with admirable composure. He hesitated. He was reluctant to say the name of his Lady. He didn’t need his sister scheming on top of his courtship. Yet came a secret, shameful thought. He could use her schemes for his benefit. His Lady would need a knight in shining armor to save her and whisk her away to his white castle. He luckily had all the required qualities to do just that. And Cersei had all the defects of the witch, evil scoundrel and dragon combined. The knight did need evils to defeat for his love to shine true. At least, he won’t have to look far for obstacles.

“Lady Brienne of Tarth,” he said with a smile in Brienne’s direction. Her name was like sugar on his tongue. He was so caught in his reflections that he missed Cersei’s stifled gasp.

Jaime finally caught his heart owner's eyes and she glared at him fiercely. He just sighed, she was so cute when she was forceful. He was delighted and waved at her. Her eyes widened and she turned in her seat so her back would face him.

“Did you just wave at her?” said Cersei, disgust coloring her voice. Jaime giggled near her.

“Ohhh, look at her squirming in delight!” cooed Jaime with a smile.

“Seems like revulsion to me,” grumbled Cersei, unimpressed.

“Anything you can’t swallow looks like revulsion to you, sister,” he said distractingly while still fixing his lady love’s back. That’s why he didn’t miss her getting up and following a group of people to the ballroom. He immediately got up to follow and thus, missed his sister’s blow to his arm. Not that he would have felt it. He was floating on a sea of love!


	2. Jaime the vigilante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a meeting, a fight and a letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot bunnies are seriously rude. They do not care for queue or manners. They get in your idea and they decide to stay, not caring about the fact that other bunnies lived there before them and that they need to be cared of too.
> 
> As always my heartfelt thanks to JailynnW for her constant support when I am crying and feel unworthy. A saint like that shall never be known again. Thanks to River_Melody_Pond for being my tester, she suffers so you get the best possible. (less than JailynnW but she suffers too) lol. Please check their stuff! It will make your day! ^^
> 
> To my friends at Braime without Borders, life would be colorless without you! And a little Jaime and Brienne everyday makes a world of difference ^^
> 
> Finally thanks to all those who comments, kudoes and read my stuff. If it makes you smile then I am blessed ^^

Brienne skin _crawled_.

There was no other appropriate term for the sensation she was experiencing now. The feel of phantom eyes roaming over her insistently. She squirmed again. 

She was used to being watched. It was a given with her looks. She knew this feeling intimately. Everywhere, every time she met someone new, she would be graced with ‘this’ look. This look of pity mixed with barely contained mockery. She had learned to expect it with time. To brace herself against it. And even accept it to a certain extent. 

‘That’ was new. She couldn’t ignore it. 

‘That’ was insidious. It was making her feel paranoid. As if eyes watched her _all the time_. Never had she felt such a ‘physical’ gaze on her. Generally, she had to look at a person’s face to catch their disgust. Or she would catch people laughing when she passed them and if they looked at her she knew it was at her expense. ‘That’ didn’t come from anywhere nor anyone near her. But she felt its strong presence all the same. Like someone was breathing down her neck. Her flesh was often both cold and sweaty from the constant wariness it provoked in her. 

Somewhere, a woman’s scream pierced the assembly. By reflex, her companions and she turned to the sound and her hand went to her waist to grab her sword before remembering that it was in her room. When the cry was not renewed and nobody reacted, the groups of nobles began to talk as before.

“Stop worrying,” said Renly while posing his hand on her arm. “It was surely something unimportant.”

“Yes,” snorted Loras who was standing near him, “women have a tendency to fall easily these days. Surely because of the hotness in the Keep” He and Renly exchanged a little smirk. Brienne was about to protest but Renly cut her before she could start.

“You know it is true,” Renly added with a smile, “didn’t you tell us of such an instance at supper?” Brienne needed a moment to answer, as always when Renly addressed her, but finally could respond.

“Yes, a woman fell near me and I-”

Here she was. 

After he made good on his promise and made the selfish girl embrace the floor against her bosom with a well-placed leg in her path, he began to search for his wife-to-convince. He found her with Renly and Loras. He scrunched his nose. His poor Lady had such bad taste in frequentations. On the bright side, it meant no competition for him. Now, how to officially meet her was the problem. 

He didn’t want to be presented like everybody else. Borinnng! That was unoriginal and would leave no definite impression on her mind. Hummm… He bit the knuckle of his index finger in thought. He saw her turn her head and observe the room again. She was totally linked to him, their soul called each other desperately. He could feel the string attached to his heart being tugged again in her direction. He wanted to look into her eyes again, to touch her skin. 

His mouth stretched with a big smile as he was just a few paces away from her. Time to use what experts did in this kind of situation. And he had a lot of material to work with. 

“Aah!” 

His giantess barely had the time to turn before he collided with her and she automatically threw her arms around him to stabilize him. And… 

Bliiiiiiissssssssssssssssss!!!!! 

He knew she wouldn’t let him fall! His beloved Lady. His savior.

And the skin pressed against his face was so soft and warm. He just let himself enjoy the moment and moaned in happiness. He opened one eye and saw Renly and Loras look at him with big eyes. He hoped his ‘say one word and I will destroy you’ stare was understood. He didn’t have time for unimportant people. Only he and her were worth a thought. Ahhhh, he sighed and he felt her shiver under his hot breath. Maybe he could lick just a little, thy skin looked good enough to deserve a taste. 

Actually, now that he really looked at the skin near his face, he saw freckles. His mouth watered and he really wanted to nibble some of them. Surely she wouldn’t begrudge him that? I mean, why would he fall on her if he wasn’t weak with thirst and hunger? Right? It was perfectly plausible.

“My Lord, are you alright?” He pouted, even as he let himself enjoy the timbre of her voice, and used his arms to hug her to him. He knew that he didn’t have a lot of time left before she got her wits back. He groaned on purpose and rubbed his face on the bare skin above the draped neckline of her gown. He saw Loras nod in appreciation at his technique, looking impressed. If the asshole made his Lady suspicious, he will put his sword where the sun didn’t shine. That’s the only kind of swordplay that Loras will probably not appreciate.

“My Lord?” she repeated while discreetly trying to detach him from her person. Her hands were tugging on his sleeve and he permitted himself one last squeeze of her powerful body which made her grunt. 

Now, he had a massive problem. He had prepared his face to perfection. The puppy-dog eyes were ready. He knew their devastating power. He didn’t know any woman who could resist them. He was _that_ good. He could ask anything and it would be granted. 

Just by using. This. One. Look. 

He knew she would fall for him the second he would unleash it on her. It had taken him years to perfect his technique. It worked on women and men alike, even kittens could learn from him. He could get everything with them, from an extra bottle of wine to a supplementary roll of bread where there was _none_. 

Only three persons in the whole world were immune to _The Look_. His father because he had no heart to work on. But let it be said that Tywin Lannister let no talent go untapped, so he used to sit him at his side when he negotiated contracts to dazzle his opponents and get better terms. Cersei tried to replicate the look but her heart couldn’t comprehend such cuteness. Every attempt failed miserably. His sister then developed the ‘spoiled brat’ and ‘scary bitch’ looks. She had them down pat! His little brother was too smart to be taken by it. Tyrion just perfected the ‘doesn’t-work-on-me’ look and did a tywin on him. He had used him to get girls at the whorehouse. At least, he didn’t have to help Tyrion anymore because he was apparently well-endowed enough to not need puppy-dog eyes. 

He had stopped using his secret weapon in Court for it would give him favors he had no taste for. Also, he didn’t want to give reasons to the demented nobles residing in the Red Keep to pursue him with even more determination.

But she had to grunt. And this grunt put him from cute-kitten-play-with-me mode to let’s-fuck!-play-with-me mode. So when he raised his head to look at her he must have looked less cute than deranged for she frowned _Aah! Not the dreaded frown!_ made a disgusted face and pushed him quite abruptly from her. 

“You!” she hissed and frowned even harder, her eyes transformed into two blades of ice. He blinked. She was immune too. While part of him regretted that, a bigger part rejoiced greatly. For only the members of his close family were immune and she was too! He knew she was made for him! The Gods had created her for him. 

“Ooh!” he cooed, “so forceful in your approach, my Lady.” He put his hand on his face in mock shyness and looked to the side, “I am flattered that you wanted to meet me so much!” She gasped _ a pure look of astonishment on her face_ and took a step back while he advanced until he was close to her once more. He took her hand and put a perfect kiss on it, “Charmed.” He then admired the blush which overtook her skin from the tip of the ears to the freckles he had so wanted to lick. When the red disappeared beneath the blue cloth of her gown, he couldn’t help but wonder if her blush would light her whole skin on fire. 

“Oh, my Lady! I regret that you do not know how to address me because our mutual friends are so badly educated!” He sent a menacing stare at Renly until the man finally fulfilled his sole purpose in life.

“Lady Brienne of Tarth, this is Lord Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock.” 

“You...you…” she looked ready to faint, her eyes and mouth opened wide, her whole body shuddering and leaning away from him.

He wanted to be helpful so he circled her until he was standing by her side, her hand still in his despite her best attempts to discreetly take it back. He then put his other hand smoothly on her back in such a way that he was nearly fully embracing her. “Lady Brienne, you seem so distraught! Let me provide you with some support. You look ready to fall yourself!” he said, all solicitude. She was so dazzled by it all that she did not react until the hand on her back circled once. 

“Ah!” she yipped and jumped away from him with big eyes. She then hissed, “You are the one who let the other Lady fall!” Jaime frowned. That was a blatant lie. She fell _by herself_. He actually only made her fall the _second time_, to his immense satisfaction. She totally deserved that. But he smartly deduced that his soon-to-be-wife wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. 

“I was so surprised that I could not react on time!” Renly and Loras snorted loudly, which made her frown again _aaawww!_ and made Jaime promise to pulverize them in the next tournament. If they cockblocked him, then they deserved the same courtesy! He thinks that ‘assblocked’ will be an expression quickly adopted in the english language. Very catchy!

> _assblocked_ : getting a sword in the ass by one pissed off Kingslayer

She didn’t believe him, and two men will soon know the true meaning of pain, “It is an ungentlemanly and dishonorable conduct!”

Jaime pointed at himself in disbelief, “You do know that I am called the Kingslayer and that I saved the whole Capital from an atrocious death!”

“And so are dispensed of doing any good deeds for the rest of your life then?” she retorted with fire, trusting her chin up in disdain.

Jaime just blinked at her and smiled. “Do not mock me!” she growled, “I should have let you fall.”

Jaime’s smile only got wider, “I am not mocking you, and you wouldn't, you are too kind for that!”

Brienne blinked in surprise. Then she blushed the fiercest blush he had seen yet and turned to Renly, “My father is waiting for me. Are we still meeting on the morrow?”

The black-haired man nodded kindly, “In the courtyard with the rising sun. I will not miss it, Lady Brienne.”

She gave a quick nod to all the present and swiftly walked away.

“I cannot understand what is it with this beast that attracts men so?!” whispered Loras to his companion with a grimace. “First you,” he said with an irritated wave of his hand, “then the KingslayaaaaaAAAHH!”

“LORAS!” exclaimed Renly at the sight of the Knight of Flowers taking a nosedive on the floor and taking three other nobles with him. He tried to go to him but Jaime gripped his shoulder painfully, making him wince, and forced him to stay near him. 

“So clumsy, Ser Loras,” Jaime said sadly, “should you really be trusted with swords in hand, I do wonder?” Loras snarled in anger _for his fall had not been accidental as Jaime knew. A knee to the back of another knee was childish but always worked, except with Tyrion_ but it wasn’t really threatening when one was on the floor with four others. Another angry ‘KingslayaaAAAAHHH!’ pierced the air.

“Renly, as your well-meaning good-brother, you are worth more than somebody who cannot even talk properly! Also, I am sure he has a useful mouth but the stupid things he says, seriously! Saying such filth on a Lady of noble ascent! Not a very good ‘friend’ to have here.”  
The smirk and the way the golden-haired man said friend were very telling.

“We only pray together!” grumbled Renly defensively.

“And I am sure you find the Gods in each other, good brother!” retorted Jaime with a big smile. 

Renly glared at him, deadpan, “We are not-” 

Jaime clicked his fingers together and cut Renly in the middle of his frankly useless protests,  
“Concentrate Renly! Why are you meeting Lady Brienne in the courtyard?”

“She is fighting one of my knights and I promised to watch and encourage her,” grumbled Renly mightly irritated. “Now will you leave me be!”

If Jaime felt in love before, he felt like he was about to die of happiness. She was a fighter! He couldn’t believe it! He looked at Renly with hungry eyes, “When will it be?”

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☼ ☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽

The next morn, the sun rose and the training yard was already occupied. Jaime and Tyrion _the later there under duress_ Renly and Loras, other knights of the Stormlands standing near them to see the spar.

In the middle of the yard, two armored characters finished warming up. A man and a woman. The man was bragging, mocking the woman and making the other men standing beyond the barriers laugh. Renly did nothing to reign them in but didn’t belittle her too. It made Jaime’s teeth grit together in irritation. Jaime looked at Brienne. He would have jumped to defend her but she was supremely calm. A voice inside his head told him to wait, to watch. A glance to the side showed Tyrion making his own observations.

While the man was mocking and posturing, the woman’s eyes followed him like a hawk, cataloging weaknesses, searching for defects in the armor, both of steel and of mind. Jaime felt himself being suffused with her calm. She will not loose, he knew. 

Renly, being the combatants’ liege lord and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, stepped between them. “This is a friendly spar, the fight continues until one yields or is knocked out.” Both Brienne and the other man bowed to their liege before assuming position. 

Jaime didn’t care for his Lady’s opponent at this moment, he hoped for the man that Brienne was victorious and not too banged up because if she is not, he will care about him and the man will not like it at all. 

The two fighters began to circle each other with their wooden swords and the tension rose in Jaime’s body. He didn’t hear the cries of the watchers nor Tyrion’s comments, he was totally focused on Brienne. Brienne who was very careful and was very precise in everything she did. Her footwork was excellent and she lost no energy in useless maneuvers. He admired that in her for she looked young and having such discipline instilled in her was extraordinary. The other was still taunting her like a fool but she didn’t hear a thing, as Jaime didn’t.

He liked his lips, he was taken with the need to fight her. It should be him out there, fighting his other half. He felt his heart beat faster and he held his breath when the man got tired of waiting and struck the first blow. He smiled when Brienne avoided it by moving aside and putting distance between them again. Jaime smiled, she was fast and patient. Her opponent grew quickly tired of that because he came at her more insistently, striking multiple times in a row and from different angles to throw her off. It didn’t work as she parried or avoided them all then danced around him with her own riposte until she was at his back. She then booted him in the rear. It made the knight fall down spectacularly and the japes that were made at her expense quickly were made at his. 

Jaime frowned. He didn’t like the content of the japes. The fact that Brienne was holding her own was no chance and certainly not due to the fact that her opponent was soft. It was no luck nor mercy at work. She was just skilled. Jaime gritted his teeth and was about to go knock some sense in these cullions. 

“Stop brother,” said Tyrion calmly, “she seems quite good at defending her honor. If you interfere, people will use that to plead that she did not win by her own merits. You should believe in your paramour.”

“She is not my paramour!” he snarled, “and I should defend her not only because she is a woman I want but because she is a woman at all.” 

Tyrion rolled his eyes, “Look you fool,” he pointed to the fight, “you are missing all the entertainment.” 

Jaime turned and saw Brienne begin to fight back. Until then, all her moves had been defensive. Now that the man had been humiliated and attacked furiously, she was facing him fully, not at the least afraid. It was quite the opposite. She was dealing him punishing blows that made his armor ring when they connected and the impacts were clearly seen on the steel. 

Jaime looked at her fixedly, so taken he was with the sight of Brienne, by the beauty of the woman he wanted. Here she was, he could see _her_ in this courtyard, all that made her who she was. She was his equal in every way. She was kind, true, but she was also a warrior. She was bloody, dirty, strong and fierce and independent and glorious… 

When was the last time that something moved him so? That he met somebody who had the potential to understand him so completely? He took a deep breath.

“She will be mine. Mark my words, little brother. I shall want or need no other,” Jaime whispered with passion, making his brother look up at him.

‘You really are serious?” said Tyrion calmly.

“Yes, I told you so,” said Jaime while not leaving a fighting Brienne out of his sight. “I just realized that it was forever for me.” The blond-haired man licked and bit his bottom lip, “I have to get serious about it.” 

Tyrion shuddered. He pitied the Lady... just a little. A serious Jaime is a frightful prospect. The last time he was serious about a woman, it was their sister and it made him discard all rules of moral conduct. He wondered what Jaime would discard to get this Lady.

“I thought it was infatuation, a challenge for you,” said Tyrion while nodding seriously. “But the way you look at her,” he trailed off pensively.

Jaime didn’t say a word, and Tyrion dared continue, “You look like Father when he speaks of Her, like she is everything you want in a woman…”

The two brothers watched the fight in silence after that but the air resonated with the unspoken truth.

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☼ ☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽

Jaime sat at his desk in his nightclothes, an urgent task at hand. He finally met his better half. Convincing her would take time but it was not impossible. But Tyrion last words reminded him of one important thing he had to take care of. Convince his father, the Stranger’s son, of the benefits of the match.

He frowned. He knew his father. That will not bode well but in the worst-case scenario, what could happen? Would he renounce marrying his blue-eyed woman? Nope. He will marry Brienne, by hook or by crook. That was a given, an inevitable event. Even if Tywin disinherit him, Jaime had amassed a personal fortune for some time now. Being a knight was a lucrative job, being a Kingsguard even more, and the recompense he got in secret for killing the Mad King had been generous. So he brought a good dowry with him as a bargaining chip if he couldn’t bring the Lannister name. Also, taking care of an island as her consort seemed dreamy.

Still, he did not wish to lose his family if he could keep it. And having Tywin Lannister on your side was always going to be better than having him as your enemy. So...

He smiled then penned a letter to his father.

>   
Dear Father,
> 
> **I **hope this letter finds you in good health.
> 
> **W**hen I stayed in King’s Landing in your stead,  
**I**t was for one sole purpose, to find a worthy wife.  
**L**ady Brienne of Tarth is the woman of my choice,  
**L**ove for this woman will give the Lannisters a new kind of pride.
> 
> **N**o doubt, you may recoil for you do not know my Lady’s numerous virtues,  
**O**bliged I am, if you put prejudices aside and make due.  
**T**he Lady will in time show you her true and priceless value.
> 
> **W**ed my Lady is my last and greatest wish,  
**E**agerly into your hands, the rest of my life I relinquish,  
**D**efiance from me you will never hear again, only obedience will flourish.
> 
> **A**dored will be your name upon my lips,  
**N**aturally, second, because my wife gets the first place.  
**O**bey, to the best of my abilities, I shall always,  
**T**hrough on this point, I shall have my ways.  
**H**ex me, upon my return, you may feel the need,  
**E**ntwine my life with hers, and to your heart content you may proceed.  
**R**espectfully yours, your dutiful son.  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you get the semi-hidden message in Jaime's letter? If not, and I would be proud, check the first letters in each line and you will see what Jaime really wanted to say ^^
> 
> To those who wish to talk about Jaime and Brienne for more than a simple comment, join the Braime without Borders chat. For that contact me at chmaryline@gmail.com if you wish for a daily dose of braime. I totally need my fix


	3. Getting down and dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The things Jaime has to do for Love. At least, between the obstacles, come some moments of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Here's another chapter of romantic stalkering. 
> 
> Thanks to JailynnW and River_Melody_Pond for their precious feedback before it is released into the world. And also to my friends at Braime without borders who find the best braime stuff on the internet! Let us invade the world and fill it with Braime love ^^!
> 
> Thanks for the comments, kudos and hits for this little fic. It is just for laughs and kicks ^^

“Renly!!!!” The man in question shuddered and tried to walk faster and avoid the inevitable. But it was in vain. A claw gripped his shoulder and a smirk appeared at the corner of his eye, followed by blond hair and green mischievous eyes looking right at him. He sighed dejectedly.

“Well met, good-brother!” he said without conviction, his smile totally forced.

“Of course, good-brother,” said Jaime arrogantly, ignoring Renly’s snort. He put his arm around his shoulders and began to walk, taking the black-haired man with him. 

“I have things to do,” deadpanned the Baratheon, “you know, council affairs with our King and whatnot,”

“It can wait,” dismissed the Lannister with a wave of his arm, “I have a major problem that only you can solve!”

Renly didn’t say anything, just waited suspiciously to hear about this ‘major problem’. Jaime suddenly put both hands on his shoulders, making him wince at the force employed behind the move. He began to sweat when the blond man’s face turned dreamy, “My heart is suffering with unfulfilled love.” Feelings! Renly felt his skin break in hives. “I am bleeding internally and need help!” Jaime fixed Renly again with his gaze.

“Please, bleed silently and aw-”

“I need you to organise a spar between Lady Brienne and your favorite good-brother,” said Jaime over Renly’s rumble with a big smile and a waggle of his eyebrows. 

“I actually largely prefer Tyrion!” retorted Renly with an evil smile. He slapped the green-eyed man’s hands from his shoulders and turned to walk away. “It was nice seeing you. And I refuse by the way.” 

As he walked away, he hoped that it was the last time the Kingslayer talked to him. No such luck, as the shadow near his on the floor suggested. He gritted his teeth.

“Surely, It is not that big of a demand, is it?” Jaime pouted dramatically.

“It is actually, she does not relish spending time with you.” 

“I will take Cersei from your hands for a week!”

Renly stopped to look at his good-brother and frowned. Cersei was a bitch for sure, but he was savvy enough to handle her. “I don’t need help. I can handle my good-sister perfectly fine, thank you!”

Jaime blinked at him then smiled. “Oh, very well! Have a nice day!” 

Renly watched the other man walk away with a frown. He had expected more to tell the truth. He shrugged and went to the council. He was probably late.

That same morn saw Jaime break fast with his sister. She was usually eating a little collation mid morn as she used to wake up late. His twin was the most active at night. It was perfect for she was still hung over from the drinking she had indulged in the night before and was in a snit. Exactly what he needed for his plans. He gave her ten minutes to glare before attacking.

He looked at his sister and snorted, then looked away. “What is it?” he heard her say belligerently. _Hook_. 

“I am just surprised,” he said not looking at her, letting the _line_ dangle

“What do you mean? Tell me immediately!” she barked imperiously. “It is an order from your Queen!”

He shrugged delicately, still looking away, “I am just surprised that you let him get away with it.”

Cersei squeezed her eyes, “I let **who** get away with **what**? I never let anyone get away with anything!” she hissed, already incensed beyond measure with the insinuation that she wasn’t the most feared person in Westeros.

“It is just Renly, he said…” Jaime trailed off on purpose, making a troubled face. “He probably lied anyway… Leave it,” he waved his hand to signify that she should let it go. 

“What did he say?” Cersei screeched like a hissing cat.

“Well…” Jaime made himself waver, made the tension in the room hike higher. “How many men can you say you have had in your life?” 

Cersei looked up and took a looong time to count, he could see her fingers twitch because counting only mentally was too big a task. “Fifty,” she boasted after some time. Jaime coughed, not totally a fake cough either, then looked to the side with a smirk. When she hissed like a snake, he finally set his trap.

“Renly said to his minions that he had more men than you!” He looked at his sister to see her squeeze her eyes and hiss in outrage. _Stinker_. He smiled devilishly. Siccing Cersei on Renly was especially cruel, but devastatingly effective. He gave Renly a sennight to beg for deliverance. 

It didn’t take a sennight.

After only four days, a spooked deer came to a very self-satisfied lion. “I will do it, take her away!”

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☼ ☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽

Jaime was overly excited. He was standing in the courtyard, his beloved warming up in front of him. Renly had fulfilled his end of the bargain and convinced the blue-eyed woman to spar with him. He cared not for the ways he employed to get her there, only for the end result.

Him being the Kingslayer brought them a massive audience, all pressing on the barriers surrounding the fighting area. Cheers and womanly screams were filling the air but the golden-haired man barely heard them, so focused he was on the wonderful woman in front of him. A woman made even more marvelous with the fact that she was barely fazed by the noise around them.

He licked his lips while watching her swing her wooden sword with expertise to test her grip. He had asked for a friendly spar, meaning that they were not armoured. They had just a gambeson and wooden swords. 

“Are you ready, my Lady?” he hoped the tremble of his voice was not too apparent. It wouldn’t do for his excitement to be too obvious. 

She nodded regally and he wished instantly to break her formal manner to uncover the passionate being hidden underneath. He smiled beatifically and she seemed to misunderstand the meaning for she frowned and began to circle him. The fight had begun.

While Jaime humored her for a while, letting her fall into her usual tactics. He began to think furiously at how to exploit their spar for his own interests. He, after all, came for a fight of another nature altogether. 

He understood her tactics but did not care for them. With his experience and his mastery over the sword, he could permit himself to rush her. What was a stupid error in the hands of a squire could become a veteran swordsman’s weapon. He rushed to her, ‘_Here I come, my Love!_’

He could see her beautiful blue eyes widen at his approach but she was good and parried his strong swing to her ribs and went to counter but he had already twirled away from her with a delighted laugh which made her frown in anger and go after him to land a blow of her own.

He smirked and his delight was immense to see her so engaged already. Their wooden swords met several times with force, the force of the impact reverberating in his sword arm. He smiled at her ferally and saw his own expression reflected back at him on her face. 

The combat continued for some time, Jaime not keen on ending it so quickly. While he supposed he could win easily, she was a pleasure to fight with and her sole attention on him was intoxicating. He couldn’t help but think of other circumstances where her concentrating on him and him alone would be more than welcome.

His daydreams pushed him further and he multiplied his attacks suddenly and she resisted quite well until he decided that he was done playing ‘nice’.

In what could be considered a suicidal move, he threw his wooden sword at her face forcing her to put her arm up or be clobbered in the head by the wooden stick. He run at her the second the sword was in the air and was able to boot her in the belly with force. She was sent flying with a cry of surprise and fell heavily to the ground, her own sword sent flying a few feet away from her. 

Jaime threw himself on her back and there began a fight that could only be described as… dirty wrestling.

Generally, this type of spars degenerated rapidly to fistfights the second the practice swords went flying. Perfect for sparring and... fighting dirty. If she didn’t know about it, she will discover it soon. While he wouldn’t be so crass as to bring a fist to his love’s face, he had intended to use the fight for other purposes from the beginning. 

All the people watching began to clap, thinking the spar over and won. That was not knowing Lady Brienne very well for she began to wiggle and hit the mass on her back while also inching towards her wooden sword on the ground. That was not knowing Lord Jaime who was jubilant that his sweetheart was so stubborn… and also provided truly enjoyable friction against his body. Like he would want for it to end so soon… Idiots, the lot of them!

Hence, on the pretext of keeping her from reaching the sword she was trying to get while making it seem like she didn’t, he began to do his own wiggling. He used his own weight to keep her under him and his right arm to grip her own. His left arm pawed her on her belly, on her hips and her ribcage just below her breasts. His feet sought an anchor on the ground to stop her from moving. And she began writhing beneath his body even more as his lower body pinned her. Their grunts as they tried to establish their dominance were fierce and sounded loud in the now silent courtyard, as the fight turned surprisingly more… sexual in its connotations. 

The ladies began to blush and mutter to each other in puzzlement and the knights' faces began to look twisted. All of them had to wrestle sometimes in a fight, it was per the rules of combat which said that every means were good to win. Still watching the Lord and Lady going at each other looked less like wrestling and more like sex with clothes on. They didn’t know what it looked like from the outside. Thinking of all the times they did it themselves, they felt ill-at-ease with their new vision of it and decided to go discreetly to vomit in peace and cry over their lost innocence.

Loras and Renly looked at them with wide eyes until the Tyrell scion whispered that he wouldn’t mind ‘wrestle’ with the Baratheon when he had the time. 

Jaime was in the Seven Heavens, ‘sparring’ with his Lady Love in his arms on the floor, his mind turned to mush with sexual desire. As such, he quite forgot himself as she pushed her shapely bottom into his pelvis in a bid to dislodge him. His brain, as always decided to interpret the move in another way. He groaned quite loudly and bit her playfully on the juncture of neck and shoulder. 

He felt her body go rigid under her, then groaned again for ‘rigid’ just made him think of his own ‘rigid’ body part_ one that was quite pulsing at the moment_ and that he was trying to keep away from her at the moment. She seemed to get that something was wrong for she turned her head _which had been facing the floor in their fight_ and looked at him with shocked blue eyes. He looked at her with innocent green eyes _he could do ‘innocent’ as well as any other_ and tried to play candid. It apparently didn’t work for she blushed a mighty red _ Lannister red!!!_ and with another burst of strength threw his body off hers with an outraged scream. He fell at her side easily, as he had relaxed his muscles when she had stilled in his arms. He barely had the time to explain when she drew a dagger out of her boot and put it on his neck.

“YIELD!” Her scream was half shocked with rage _and dare he say embarrassment_ and he didn’t even protest. He was quite sure that she would kill him if he ever tried to play with her. 

“I yield, my Lady,” he said reverently and she jerked as if burnt, and escaped the premises as quickly as she could. 

He stayed on the floor and watched her go with a smile on his face. Aahhh!!! So passionate! So spirited under all this stern demeanor. He was sooo lucky! He was barely aware of the people still standing in the courtyard, of their scandalised mutterings and their shocked faces. While he was dreaming of their next fight, a rumor began to circulate with the swiftness of a gale and brought turbulences to the Red Keep.

Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, lost to the Lady Brienne of Tarth.

Tyrion approached his brother with a bemused expression as the rest of the crowd dispersed, “Interesting _fight_, dear brother.” 

Jaime just shrugged carelessly, “I do not get your meaning.”

Tyrion snorted, “Yes, of course. Still, the Lady is impressive. Winning against you is no easy feat.”

Jaime got down on one knee to whisper, “As you know perfectly well, it is less her being stronger than me being weak in front of her.” The defeated warrior smiled with all his teeth, “She is still magnificent!” 

Tyrion pushed his face away with a grimace, “You disgust me, stop looking like a fo-” he stopped abruptly and looked behind his older brother’s shoulder. Jaime turned to look himself.

One knight was approaching with a smirk, wooden sword in hand, “Kingslayer! It seems that the years of peace made you weak if you lose against a woman!” He spat on the ground, “I will defeat you and become the most valiant knight in the Seven Realms!”

Jaime rolled his eyes then turned to his little brother, “Give me five minutes.”

Brienne was walking to her room, her hand on her neck and an embarrassed blush on her skin. 

Seriously who bites in a fight!

When Renly came to her with Lord Jaime’s demand for a spar, that was not what she had imagined. While he frankly disturbed her with his appalling lack of courtly manners and decency, saying that receiving an invitation to spar from the Kingslayer disgusted her would be a lie.

It was said that he was one of the best and fought only the best. To be able to fight him and lose against him could grant a knight a promotion and higher privileges. She had wanted to meet him, so impressed she was by all that she had heard.

She could not express how disappointed she was when she met him. She had built him in her head and the reality had been cruel. Rude and with no sense of boundaries, his presence was disconcerting at best and unsettling at worse. She had been uneasy under his scrutiny. His green eyes staring at her but lacking the usual mockery she was used to see. She didn’t know how to act near this man and decided from the first meeting to avoid him.

She would have refused the invitation to fight, not intending to reward him for his bad behavior, until Renly looked at her with true despair lurking in his black eyes. And she had to accept after that.

She had hoped to make a good showing. She didn’t expect to win even if she promised herself to do her best. And the spar had been great at the beginning. It had been a grand encounter, making her fight to the earnest. He was cunning and quick and she enjoyed testing her mettle against him.

Then, the fight had taken a strange turn.

He had made her fall with a kick in the belly. Then, it came to wrestling on the floor. The way she had fought when younger with the boys of Tarth who loved to mock her. It had brought her back to a time where she was mocked but couldn’t do much about it. Often times, she came home crying and with a lot of bruises until her father let her train with a sword. So she fought the Kingslayer without finesse, just trying to get out of his arms. But while he applied pressure to keep her beneath him, he didn’t hit her once. She felt him try to get a grip on her clothes and her arm but he never really hurt her. 

Then, he bit her shoulder. It was so bizarre… such an animalistic move that she had been stunned. The rest had been a blur. She had used the moment of surprise to take advantage. She then run away as fast as she could. 

She passed a group of five ladies in the corridor on her way to her room, quite similar to each other if not for the different color of their dresses and hair, and bowed her head a little in a greeting before continuing to her room. 

She needed a bath and a way to conceal the bite. She refused to walk around with such a mark on her neck! She relaxed in the water, and only then remembered that she won the fight.

The group of Ladies watched the Lady of Tarth pass in barely hidden disgust. They couldn’t believe what they had seen.

“Pass the word along,” said the oldest, flushed with anger, “the meeting is rushed. Today, mid-afternoon, group embroidery.” 

The other four nodded in unison. They would have to be fast. Fortunately, the midday meal was soon upon them and it will be the best way to contact the others.

Jaime thanked his squire and dismissed him. In his hand, was the answer from his father. He grimaced. The letter came back way quicker than he had anticipated. He wanted to hope that it meant good news but he knew better than that. Reading it, he saw that he was right.

**D**o not take me for a fool, son!  
**O**utrageously declaring that you will marry this girl will not make it so.

**N**one of those qualities you wax lyrical about won’t disguise the truth of the matter,  
**O**verly ugly, manly and disobeying and lacking sorely of pleasant manners,  
**T**he answer is NO.

**D**orne, the Riverlands, the Reach, the Westerlands and the North have plenty to offer,  
**I**f needed, Walter Frey has dozens of girls to barter,  
**S**he cannot be the one you decided to take to the Alter!  
**R**espect her Father may command and Honor they may represent,  
**E**ager you may be and enamored. Those would not stop me to press for an annulment,  
**S**he could be deflowered by your hand and still not good enough for the heir of the Westerlands.  
**P**ulverize those unworthy feelings for I am displeased and unmoved,  
**E**ffusions and emotions leave me quite undisturbed.  
**C**ease this endeavor immediately and take back your bargain,  
**T**he request is dismissed and shall never be brought up again. 

**M**atters not, here is a list of eligible prospects, all fair and nubile.  
**E**lect one from the pick of the day. Take one who will be fertile and docile. 

**B**etter not forget me or my demands and keep in mind,  
**O**ut of all, loyalty to our Family and a blooming legacy are the things I want for our kind.  
**Y**ours, and I remind you vengeful, so be very careful.

Jaime frowned in displeasure. That was harsh. Should he listen to his father and bend the knee? Jaime just had to close his eyes and see his goddess again. Could he let her go after fighting her? After he had experienced first hand the passion burning in her body? When he opened them again, he was smirking evilly. 

Of course not! It just meant war!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! Finally!
> 
> Please, plot bunny, leave me in peace so I can update other fics of mine and I promise to come back as soon as possible!


	4. Here comes the peanut gallery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proving his love is already a complicated endeavor and Jaime forgot that there are people around who may not wish for him to succeed either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Ah! If the corona debacle has one positive side, it is that we can write some chapters while in isolation. My braimemania is up the roof these days.  
So people, I hope this will bring a little joy in these dark days! 
> 
> Ah, I love chapters dividers! Nothing like making fics prettier. As you can see, I use my isolation time for the betterment of my fics if not for myself ^^
> 
> Thanks to my friends in this fandom and in particular to JailynnW and River_Melody_Pond for agreeing to be tortured with spoilers. Hope the scraps did not spoil the whole meal. If you wish to talk braime, come visit the Braime without borders chatroom!
> 
> Thanks to all those who commented, kudo'ed or viewed the fic! It is always a boost to see someone react and tell us what they think.  
Disclaimer: Not mine and never will be. May GRRM use his own isolation time to write the rest of GOT. Amen!

Loras snorted in disgust.

“What is it, Loras?” said Margaery, always attuned to his moods. Renly turned from his contemplation of the curious spectacle in front of them to look at him questioningly. 

On the other side of the ballroom, the Tarth girl was subtly trying to evade Jaime Lannister’s unsubtle attentions. The lion just ignored it and followed her around as if tied to her with a string. It ensued a pretty amusing game of hide-and-seek for those who were observant enough to catch it. He would have found great sport in it if Renly hadn’t been himself so fascinated by this situation.

“Why are you and Jaime so interested in her?” Loras pouted. “She is boring and a mute. I admit that she can handle a sword but so are all a lot of other people.” He swiped his hand to the side, indicating the vast amount of nobles and knights talking in groups.

“I personally find her fascinating,” said his sister with a smile, her head slightly down-turned and a finger nested in the dimple of her right cheek. Loras frowned. This was her intrigued pose, used when something interesting caught her attention. 

“Et tu, Marge?” he hissed.

She swapped his arm with a good-natured roll of her eyes, “She must be compelling to attract the most sought-after man in the Seven Kingdoms.” Her smile widened and became mischievous, “And even more to honestly want nothing of his attention.”

Renly smiled candidly, “Brienne is one of the kindest women I had the pleasure of meeting. She is immensely loyal and is not possessing a once of the machinations that her sex employs with masterful skill.”

“Nor any of their graces,” he muttered and got pinched quite painfully by Margaery for his jape. 

“Lord Renly,” Margaery exclaimed with feinted shock and ignoring his squeak, “while I do not disagree with your assessment of the Lady, you paint the rest of us with a rather evil brush. I feel that I should protest.”

“What can I say,” he shrugged with a disarming smile, “it is refreshing to meet a woman that honest.”

Loras pouted again. While he knew that Renly was not attracted to her, it still ranked to hear her praises sung by his own lover. Especially knowing that the cow was pining after him. Hearing Margaery add to that just annoyed him more.

Watching the Lannister lick his lips while devouring his prey with coveting eyes and her trying to hide behind a Lord of the Stormlands; he told himself that only an idiot would refuse such a hot piece of ass. 

He suddenly blinked and his eyes widened. Wasn’t Lannister the solution to his problems? After all, he was sick of her making eyes at his lover and him not being able to do a thing about it due to Renly genuinely liking her. Wouldn’t throw her into Lannister’s arms the perfect way to get rid of her? 

If the golden lion had no taste, that was hardly his fault. Yet, he was smart enough to use it for his own gain. 

He will repay the Kingslayer for making him fall another way.

“I, for my part, desire to know more about this woman,” said Margaery while clapping her hands together, “I am going to invite her for a tea with Grand-mother. I am sure she will love her as much as I do.”

Loras smiled. It would be perfect. Now to prepare himself for the next step: pretend to be her friend and make her fall in love with the Lion of Casterly Rock. 

He shuddered.

“Ladies. Please, have some decorum.”

The plea reached the ears of all the Ladies in the parlor. An eerie silence settled in the room, only cut by some sniffles here and there. After what had been a cacophony of screams, wails and even some imaginative curses, it was a welcome reprieve.

However, the newfound calm didn’t deter Lady Ballantine from her duty as Chief of Proceedings, three consecutive years in a row --- if you please! She knew how to get things done. The organization was thriving with her at its head.

Lady Ballantine was a woman of thirty and four, still beautiful with green eyes and black hair. Her best quality was that she was a widow and as such, eligible for marriage. 

The woman sitting at her right at the Head Table, Lady Baileys frowned, “Are the rumors true? Could it be only hearsay?

“No!” wailed Lady Finlandia, “it is all true.” She collapsed in tears, unable to say more and needed three fellow members to give her salts to revive her.

Lady Chivas-Regal, who sat at Lady Ballantine’s left, sniffed at their sniveling. “My poor fellow, your news are as ancient as my good-mother, may the Gods take her soon!” She waved a dismissive hand, her face twisted with a disgusted frown. “I saw it all, just this morn in the training yard. I cannot talk about it in my upset.”

The young Lady Jameson, one of the jewels of the Reach, was not upset enough to not relay the alarming event to those who were not-in-the-know. “I was there too. I saw it with my own eyes. Lord Jaime pushed Lady Brienne to the floor and proceeded to…” she gulped loudly, her hands violently rubbing against each other, “rub his body all over her quite shamelessly.” 

The majority of the women gasped and the most dignified opened their fan for they were in dire need of fresh air, expressing their outrage with forceful flicks of their wrists. A few bit their lip, imagining Lord Jaime rubbing all over ‘them’ and their eyes glazed over. 

Cold indignation swept the room and filled the hearts of the females in the room. They had established themselves in the Red Keep, they lived at Court. They spent their time, money and energy trying to be seen and acknowledged by the best the male nobility had to offer. Hoping to be granted the title of Lady of a respectable Lord. Lord Jaime Lannister was, of course, the most coveted of them all. 

There was a time when the competition had been fierce, and the Ladies without mercy. Everything was done to brush away the competitors and the means used were often deadly. After the number of suspicious deaths in the Ladies’ rank had reached a peak, the remaining survivors had arranged for a meeting and strove for a solution. Death seemed too high a price to pay, even for the high stakes at hand. The association which resulted from their pourparlers had put an end to these unseemly proceedings. It had put an order to things and a code had been established. It had restored peace between the feuding Ladies and allowed the women to drink their cup of Arbor Gold without fearing that their beverage may be poisoned. 

The new system was quite simple. The more you paid, the more privileges you got and the fewer services you had to perform for the Association. For quite a generous amount of dragons, you could get some precious items like a scrap of Jaime Lannister’s torn shirt or the lace of one of Ser Loras’ jerkin. The money to the association was used to pay the servants generously for stealing inconspicuous items from their Masters and some innocent pieces of information. That was the reason any fight in the courtyard containing their prey always had some of them there and watching, a privilege that cost a pretty price. 

The fees also paid for the supplies needed to create their vast array of hand-crafted goods. An organization such as theirs needed plenty of thread and linen, yards of it. The three Judges ---or the Three Bulges, as the young Ladies called them in secret--- directed the Association with a grip made of steel and a will of iron. 

“There is nothing to be done about it,” sniffed Lady Cointreau, a premium member for ten years, “but what we **can** do, is find who is this woman and what are her weaknesses.” Some of the members nodded in agreement. 

Lady Tequila --- the last of the three Judges --- stood abruptly, “Does somebody know who she will dine with tonight?”

Lady Vodka stood, “She will be dining with Lady Olenna tonight. I heard Lady Margaery mention it earlier today. The woman is the Lady Brienne of Tarth and is a friend of Lord Renly Baratheon. They were both invited to join the Tyrells for the meal.”

The women’s outrage went up a notch. Not only the unknown woman had designs on their number One, but she cozied up to their number Five who was always near their number Nineteen. It was inadmissible. She had to pay!

“Will you be sitting at their table too?” asked Lady Ballantine with a flare of her nostrils, all anticipation.

Lady Vodka looked around for a moment below lowered lashes then smiled triumphally, “I will.” 

“Great! Try to sit as close to our enemy as you can and gather as much information as possible.” Lady Chivas-Regal smirked, “We need to know who she is to destroy her.”

“Ladies, every one of you knows their duties. We will gather tomorrow next.” 

On that positive note, the meeting was adjourned to prepare for supper. 

“Imp!” 

An imperious voice hissed from behind him. Tyrion knew this voice but pretended that he did not. Only bad things happened to him when he met the owner of that voice.

He walked faster but his physique did not lend itself for fast escapes. Sadly, even with her heavy dress and even heavier crown, his sister joined him quickly and put herself in his path. “Ignore me again and I will take my husband’s warhammer to your ugly head,” she snarled. 

Tyrion mock gasped, “Sweet sister, I did not see you.” He frowned at her. “Actually, we did not see each other for moons now and while I am devasted by your avoidance,” he made an exaggerated sad face, “I am sure that your Grace is ecstatic.” Tyrion bowed and contoured her slowly, being careful to never show his back to her. After all, you don’t show your back to a poisonous animal. “Let us continue to avoid each other and enjoy--” 

“Come here now! I have things to say,” she snarled venomously.

He hanged his head and sighed. Of course, it wouldn’t be so easy. He turned around and approached her while rolling his eyes, “Yes, sweet sister?” 

“A ridiculous rumor that the she-beast beat Jaime in a fight circulates! I am going to have her whipped.” 

“It is not a totally false rumor,” he answered with raised eyebrows.

“What do you mean, you monster? It is impossible,” she screeched with indignation. “You are a filthy liar. I will put you and this blasphemous girl in the Black Cells for spreading such a shameful tale.”

“Oh, she won against him for sure. I saw it with my own eyes.” He scratched his temple distractingly. “However, it is not that she is stronger. It is more a case of our dear brother being weaker in front of her.”

“She cannot have beaten him! It isn’t possible!” Cersei was pale, “The shame it will bring on our family’s name will never be erased.” She swayed as if she was about to faint. Tyrion tried to calculate her trajectory so he would move to the other side if she fell.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.” His words immediately got him a killing glare in return. “Yes, she did win their spar but do not make the mistake of thinking that it makes him weak. The knight who thought that way will never be able to chew again.”

Tyrion looked at her assessingly from the top of her head to the bottom of her dress, “But the thought amuses, to see Jaime break you like a twig. Please do try!”

Again, his pudgy body was too slow to avoid the kick she threw in retaliation.

The dinner was merry and the conversation flowed around Brienne while she contented herself with listening to the partner sitting at her right side. 

That night, it was Willas Tyrell. She couldn’t sit near Renly who was bracketed by Margaery and Loras. So she sat near Willas. It was not such a bad thing as he was willing to talk ad-nauseam about his horses and their care. Perfect, she thought. She needed him to go on until the end of the dinner. She brought her chair slightly closer and forced herself to concentrate on his stories. A chair rattling on her left made her frown but she persisted. Willas Tyrell was kind and humble even if a little pedantic and pompous when he talked about his passions. Yet, she fought to give him her whole attention. It was hard because sometimes hot air would hit her shoulder or neck and she would shiver, her attention dissolving like mist. Luckily, she cared about her horses as well so the subject did interest her.

And Lord Willas smiled kindly at her and continued prattling on, even if she was nearly stuck to his side, as much as decency allowed. Which is why he jumped when she jerked suddenly and looked at her worriedly when she began to squirm with a grimace on her face.

“Lady Brienne, is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes!” she exclaimed in a high breathy voice that was totally strange, “please continue, I wanted to know more about this horse you have. A willful stallion if I remember well...” She trailed off in the hope that her sitting companion would continue his tale. A voice on her immediate left muttered about ‘riding a stallion’ but she firmly ignored it.

“It would be hard for her to be alright with the lump she had gained on her left side,” said Olenna Tyrell with a crackle, cutting her grandson’s answer. She was sitting two seats down on the other side of the table and she seemed captivated by the spectacle not far away from her.

Olenna was the matriarch and also really honest in her opinions, meaning that people tended to listen to her to avoid provoking her ire and get sassed within an inch of their life. Brienne had been downright intimidated by the deceptively frail woman, but the older woman had taken a shine to her and treated her well. Better than her own sons for sure. She was still very loud in her inquiries which made people look at her. Brienne squirmed again, even more ill-at-ease now. And the table seaters seemed riveted to the spectacle Olenna had pointed out.

The heir of Highgarden was sitting near a jumpy and blushing Brienne of Tarth. While extremely close to his left side, she was still not touching him. On the contrary, nearly plastered to her back was Jaime Lannister, who had now his head on her shoulder with a beatific smile and was waving at all the people who looked at them. He then began to trace lines on the skin of her upper arm. With every pass, Brienne’s blush would intensify and she would jerk again.

“Did you never see two people in love?” Jaime asked the table, looking around him with a puzzled air.

Brienne could only eep in shock. They weren’t in love!

Olenna snorted, “I hate clingy men! The last one who clung to me got a heel on his foot and my cane between his legs.” The majority of men sitting near grimaced involuntarily at that. She added with a savage smile, ‘He had no reason to cling to any woman after that, I am telling you!”

Brienne was about to agree vehemently, hoping that her saying it loudly would detach the man stuck to her left side. However, he answered first.

“Well, I am bored and my sitting partner refuses to talk to me, which is very rude and unbecoming of a Lady if I might add,” sighed Jaime, the big gust of air exiting his mouth and hitting Brienne’s neck, only for her to squirm again. “Very cowardly. Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Olenna?” He was addressing the Tyrell matriarch but his gaze was fixed on Brienne’s angry eyes. 

Olenna scrutinized him for a time, unamused, “You do have another sitting partner.” They both looked at Loras who blinked back at them, then all three snorted and looked away from each other in dismissal. Brienne would have been amused at this reaction if Jaime hadn’t reported his attention on _her_.

“Also, I wonder how I cannot see the bite I gave her this morn.” The silence at the table was deafening. “I was sure that the imprint would be quite obvious,” he swiped his index on the column of her neck from her ear to the place where he had bitten her, “on such pale skin.” 

Brienne whole body arched away from his touch and she went to open her mouth in protest.

“My Lord, it was a mistake, wasn’t it?” asked a female voice on their left, sounding faint. 

“How did it happen?” said another teary male voice. “Surely, it was an accident.”

“No, it was quite on purpose,” corrected Jaime. Brienne didn’t know how to stop the horrible wreck from happening. Every inquiry or answer only seemed to be worse and she didn’t know who to address first to stop it. Still, cutting Lannister’s tongue was probably the first thing she should do. She will get to it the second she stopped screaming in her head. 

“How interesting!” clapped Margaery Tyrell with a wide smile, “you have to tell us how it happened, Lord Jaime. It seems like an incredible tale.”

Brienne gritted her teeth and gave a black glare at the young rose. Lady Olenna’s grand-daughter had been the one to help her cover the bite mark, as Brienne didn't know anybody else who could do it and not gossip about it. She had refused to explain how it had happened and had foolishly thought that it was the end of it.

“It was nothing, Lady Margaery,” she interrupted with a strained smile, “it was in the heat of a fi--” 

“Oh, we were having a heated conversation,'' he declared with a smile, “we cannot help the way our blood burn when we are close. We clash against each other with great might. Stroke each other with passion,” he purred.

“Strike!” she squealed hastily. “You meant ‘strike’, right?” she hissed with narrowed eyes.

He looked at Brienne and bit his lips with amused eyes, “It seems like every meeting awakes our most primal instincts, isn’t it so, my Lady?”

She was about to show him **_primal instincts_** by putting his head in his plate to erase the expression on his face, when a young woman sitting four seats behind Lady Olenna began to cry. 

“Oh! Contain yourself, silly girl!” said the Tyrell matriarch while rolling her eyes. “The Kingslayer wouldn’t have looked at you anyway. I bet he doesn’t even know you. Right, Lord Lannister?”

“Know who?” said her tormentor who jerked from his contemplation of her skin _was he connecting her freckles with his fingers?_ and wasn’t paying attention. She slapped his fingers with irritation and he put them in his mouth to suck the pain away. He whined as he pouted in her direction, trying to look cute, but she snorted and proceeded with ignoring his existence. A wail pierced the air, followed by some cries of horror. 

“At least, you’ve got good taste, boy!” said the old woman amused, before taking a sip of red wine. Brienne gaped at the woman in shock. Surely she was joking.

“Thank you, my Lady,” beamed Jaime with a gracious bow of his head. She turned her head to him abruptly to tell him to stop when the loud scrape of chairs pierced the air and some ladies went away rather precipitately, not even curtseying before they left.

“Rude,” muttered Olenna who looked at the departing women with shrewd eyes, “just rude.”

Brienne put her head in her hands. This night was a nightmare. She had to wake up immediately.

Jaime was pouting, hanging dejectedly over one of the training yard’s railings. He was looking at Brienne demolishing another knight in quite a sexy way. Her footwork was astonishingly provocative, showing a sensual grace and quite a bit of leg. And her grunts and cries were definitively arousing. She surely did it on purpose, the minx!

“Tyrion, remind me to have a talk with my Lady about decency,” Jaime growled.

The dwarf frowned at his big brother, then at the courtyard. After a moment, he snorted, “What are you talking about? I barely see anything under this armor. If we hadn't seen the beginning of the fight, I wouldn't even know it's her.” He clapped his hands in realization. “Oh! Are you talking about this errant lock of hair escaping from her helmet?” He tutted, “Yes indeed! It is indecently provocative! I understand why she needs a reminder about propriety.”

The golden-haired man frowned, “No! No, I'm talking about this,” he said, pointing at the two fighters. Tyrion looked again. Brienne had taken her opponent down, had flung his helmet away and proceeded to sit on his thighs to punch him in the face.

The green and black eyes looked at Jaime again interrogatively.

“You see!” continued Jaime, “she is clearly wanton! I don't want any competition for her hand but with the way she acts...” he moaned… Then came the crux of the matter, “Why isn't she doing this to me?”

The smaller man rolled his eyes, “Yes, I admit that the guy under her looks stunned but it may be because of the consecutive punches she gave him. Seven Hells, what do I know?” Tyrion suddenly gagged. Jaime probably saw this as foreplay. “Why don’t you ask for the same treatment if you love it so?”

Jaime sighed dejectedly. Alas! She refused to fight him again. He has been too ‘enthusiastic’ their first time and she was in full retreat now. She was furious at him after dinner too. Which was unfair since he only said the truth. Now she refused to be close to him and he was desolate. He proceeded to put his head in his arms and look pitiful. She may take pity on him and accept to pursue him around the yard again. She could sit on _his_ thighs if she dislikes being under so much.

“When I watch her in Court, she is generally demure and all shy,” remarked Tyrion, when he couldn’t take Jaime’s mopping anymore. “Shy maids are my favorite sort. Aside from wanton ones … but sometimes the ugliest ones are the hungriest once abed.” Tyrion’s words reached his ears as if from afar. “From what I saw from your first match, she will prove the saying true.”

“Really?” Jaime perked up at that. He looked at Brienne speculatively, his fingers tapping on his lips. He hummed then licked his lips and Tyrion gagged.

“Jaime, I beg of you to keep your mating rituals to yourself. It is frowned upon to vomit on one’s brother and I wish to abide by that rule of courtesy.” Tyrion grimaced and took two steps to the side, “Also, your dick is nearly poking my head and I hope you do not wish to sleep with me to keep it ‘in the family’ so to speak, now that you are done with our other sibling.” They gagged, both brothers neutralized by the imagery, but it had the advantage of calming Jaime down immediately.

“Tyrion! That’s disgusting! You are my little brother and…” He trailed off and threw a horseshoe at his brother’s ‘I do not feel reassured actually!’ Of course, Tyrion dodged the projectile like the monkey he secretly was. “Do not worry about your virtue,” said Jaime still grimacing, a little green around the edges. “I have no designs on you. And I love my lovers to be chaste--”

“Of course, that’s why you choose Cersei, the chastest of them all!” snorted Tyrion, half-choking on his laugh. “A real shy maid!”

“She was when we began,” mumbled Jaime irritated. “Actually--”

“Let’s agree to never go in-depth about your previous relationship,” said Tyrion firmly. “There is not enough wine in the world to forget that.”

“Agreed,” answered Jaime tartly.

Jaime rolled his eyes, “Then how would you advise me to proceed with my shy maid, oh wise one?”

Tyrion watched the Maid of Tarth push another armored knight in the dirt. “With the utmost caution,” answered Tyrion dryly. 

Olenna was taking in the stroll in the gardens when the Queen appeared in front of her, some ladies-in-waiting twittering around her. Olenna’s thin lips twitched. She had been bored. Play with the Lioness was just what she needed to whet her appetite before the midday meal. The grimace that crossed her Grace’s face for a heartbeat before being smothered ruthlessly just made it even more pleasant.

They both stopped when they got close and Cersei rose an impetuous eyebrow.

“Your Grace,” said Olenna with a graceful smile, voice deadpan, and offering the bare bones of civility. 

“You should bow, Lady Olenna. I am your Queen after all,” said Cersei with an angry smile.

“You must be jesting, your Grace,” she gently mocked, “with my age and my cane, I bow to no one, not even your father. A woman of your intelligence certainly must know how much I respect her, even without this mark of servility.” 

The lioness’s mouth twitched as if she had drunk a subpar wine, then she smiled back, “Of course, Lady Olenna. The Crown knows its most devoted subjects.” 

Olenna smiled gracefully with a light flutter of lashes. That was meek for the woman, she must be drunk already. 

“Actually,” she said delicately, “I meant to enquire about your brother’s health.” Olenna adopted a worried expression, “Is he well after his defeat in the courtyard? I heard he went down rather heavily during his fight with the Maid of Tarth.” Oh yes, the boy had gotten down pretty heavily **on** the Maid. If she had been less covered, she didn’t think that the presence of watchers would have dissuaded the lion from planting his seed. “I had wondered if he had been struck by some ailment. I have an excellent Maester if needed.” The only medicine he needed was the Lady, naked and willing. 

It seemed like the jest stroke true. The younger woman abruptly sucked in a breath, her cheeks hollowing in and all her facial traits tightening at once. Oh, to contain her laughter while _her Grace_ ‘s face took the allure of a raisin was so hard. She wondered if one could dry out from spite.

“And then to lose against a woman…” she trailed off as if unwilling to continue for the shame. Not that the man had cared a wit. He had enjoyed his ‘fight’ too much for that. 

The Queen’s face became white, then red in anger, “As you wisely guessed, my Lady, my brother had been stuck with some abdominal pain. The fact that the _Lady_,” her tone showed how much she believed the title undeserved, “used that to win is despicable.”

Olenna hummed. From what she had seen, the pain felt by the Kingslayer had originated a little below his belt and not in his stomach. Also hearing the Queen exalt fairness was a jape that will make her laugh for hours the second she got into her room.

“If you will excuse me, Lady Olenna. Affairs of state need my contribution.”

As she bowed her head in acceptance, she watched the silly woman go under her lashes. She had wanted to offer her congratulations on the incoming nuptials but it seemed that her Grace had enough problems at the moment. 

Well, she will make sure to tell her another time. 

Jaime’s chamber door was abruptly opened and met the wall with a thud loud enough to make him jump on his chair. He gave one last look to the letter he was writing and looked up with a frown as his sister entered, looking irate and signaling to her guards to stand outside. 

She sat across him on the other side of his desk while he still frowned at her high manners. Queen she may be, and his twin sister too; still he was beginning to regret both associations to her with the way she acted.

What if he had been with his sweet lady love and doing some truly decadent things on the bed? He certainly wouldn’t have wanted his sister to interrupt them. And he was past wanting her. Now it just felt… _icky_.

“Cersei, I know that your status put you above us all,” he began with irritation while pointing at her with his quill, “but a closed door is a clear signal that the person behind is not ready to receive visitors. We already had this discussion once when you came and I was using my chamberpot...” He trailed off when she shuddered with all her prissy disdain. “Yes, right. Glad you remember.” 

“Leave that aside brother! A terrible injustice had been done to you and I came to help you and you get fixated on stupid details,” she dismissed haughtily, nose in the air.

The blond-haired man frowned. How amusing that his privacy was a _stupid detail_. He could argue on that point but he didn’t relish useless battles. He looked at his half-filled parchment and sighed. He had much better things to do with his time but she wouldn’t leave until she said her piece, “What is it, sister?”

His sister looked at him with fire in her eyes, “Rumors circulate in the Red Keep, brother. Odious lies made to make you look weak and our House ridiculous. We have to retaliate. No, **you** have to punish the wicked offender.”

Jaime frowned even more. Nobody dared say a word against him after his noble deed. He could walk out and kill another noble in front of the whole Keep and no one would protest. He had clothed sex with his beloved in the courtyard and nobody stopped him, for the Seven’s sake! “What rumors? What is said exactly?”

“People say that you lost against the she-beast of Tarth! Preposterous! I thought only low nobles knew of it until Tyrion confirmed that. And Olenna, this blasted crone,” her voice had turned shrill, “asked about your well-being, insinuating that you were ill.”

He blinked. He was about to tell her that it was no rumor and that he didn’t mind but she didn’t give him the time to speak.

“Fortunately, I am smart enough to use what I heard to turn the situation to our advantage,” she continued with a satisfied smile and Jaime’s stomach dropped. “I told Varys to send a counter-rumor that you went down because you had a stomach ailment and that the silly thing used it to win.” She looked at him full of pride as he stood up, livid with fury. 

“What?!” he hissed. He barely had the breath to speak, so strong was his anger.

The last time he was that pissed off was when he learned that she had orchestrated a rumor about him being still a virgin because of his vows. While it was supposed to be the case, it still stung. In the end, he had benefited because women had believed him a prodigy in all types of ‘sword fighting’. Yet, he didn’t see how he could turn her ‘help’ to his advantage this time. 

"Well, thank you, sister,” he snarled, “now our House really looks weak thanks to you. The fact that people believe that I lost because of an ailment makes me look bad. Ask all the persons present, nobody will believe that.” He threw his quill on the table in disgust so he could pace near his bed.

"Really, plenty of women confirmed that those were the facts,” his twin shrugged delicately. One corner of her mouth was slightly upturned, he noticed darkly, like she knew that this would happen.

‘Those blasted vultures!’ He bared his teeth in anger. He should have taken his Lady on the floor in front of everyone. Nobody would have been able to misinterpret that for sure. He was outraged on the behalf of his beloved, much more than for himself. She had won, no matter that his mind had been concentrating on other things. She had deserved to be looked upon in awe. Now she was mocked for winning unfairly when he was the one who had acted in an improper manner. What must she think of those words? More importantly, what she must think of him?

He had to think of a plan but he had to get rid of his twin first. He couldn’t stand to look at her anyway. “First, don’t call my Lady that way,” he said coldly, “from now on, you will treat her with respect. I warn you that she will be my wife and by consequence, your good-sister. You will keep a civil tongue in your head or we are done!” 

Her mouth hung open in surprise and her green eyes were enormous. She then blinked and smiled uneasily. “You are lying, sweet brother,” she tried to sound confident but he could tell that he had rattled her. “I will be polite, I promise.” She talked softly as she approached him, slowly contouring the bed and sitting daintily on it. “I only want your happiness after all.” As she put her thin hand on the ornate light blanket, her dress ‘artfully’ fell from one shoulder, revealing creamy skin. She looked at him beneath lowered lashes as she bit her lip. ‘Ickyyyyy,’ the voice in his head began to hiss as goosebumps covered his flesh.

He knew exactly what would happen. “Sweet brother, beloved twin of mine, one cannot live without the other,” she crooned. _Reminding him that they were two parts of the same soul, check._ “Do you remember the happy hours spent together in our youth. I miss you, my other half. Please, take me to your bed and make me happy. I missed you so.” _Reminding him of the good times and a passionate plea for sex, check. _She spread her arms as if to call him to her. _Opening her arms with the certitude that he would jump to embrace her, check._ Once, it would have worked. It had worked a thousand times before. 

“The only thing that would require your presence in my bed was if you were to die and there was need of a space to put your corpse on. I am, at this moment, only too willing to help with that endeavor.” She got up from the bed with a frown and covered her bared shoulder briskly, her movements stiff with anger. She was probably about to snark at him but he wasn’t in the mood for that. “Now, get out!” he barked.

She snorted and walked to the door, “You will never get that opportunity again.” He just waved at her to get out. She closed the door with a slam, finally gone. 

‘I will survive,’ he thought, ‘and quite happily.’ He grimaced. The happily will entirely depend on his capacity to solve his sister’s latest blunder.


	5. The devastating power of a thousand tongues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei unleached a maelstrom upon her twin brother and it may destroy all his efforts to obtain the love of his beloved. What can a man in love do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need some laughs in those dark times. Surprisingly, the plot still comes easily even if life outside the walls is pretty bleak.
> 
> I hope you are all safe, no matter if you work or not. Protect yourselves and your families and let's hope that we all weather the storm!
> 
> A quick hello and thanks to my friends in the fandom. To JailynnW and River_Melody_Pond for listening to my rants and correcting me when my stories go astray. For the girls of the Braime without Borders chat for being marvelous. And for anyone who read, left a kind comment, kudo'ed my stories.

“Father, I need your help,” said Brienne one morning while breaking fast with her father.

“Yes, little one,” said Selwyn with a smile, “how can I help you?”

It did not happen often. His daughter was pretty self-sufficient and fiercely independent. For her to come to him for help was surprising but very welcome. He would do anything for his beloved little girl. 

She took a deep breath and told him a tale that astonished him. “The asshole of All Assholes won't leave me alone. I tried fighting, I showed my contempt, I turned my back. No matter what, it doesn't work. The mind at work here is too thick to understand what I want. Please father, what should I do?” 

She wrung her hands to show her distress. Poor kite needed her father's wise counsel. She probably tried to deal with her problems alone without any result. She finally recognized that she needed help.

Selwyn nodded, “My little star,” he said seriously, “there is only one thing left but I promise that this will work.”

Brienne moved to the edge of her seat, closer to him to hear every word of wisdom, every pearl of knowledge he was willing to give her. He was older than her. He had so much experience, he surely knew what to do. She bit her lower lip in anticipation. Her nostrils flared and she stopped breathing; her whole being focused on him. She will have a solution for her problem. Finally. He let himself enjoy her attention for a minute, remembering a little girl asking for stories with the same fascination. 

“You need…” her father began and she took a deep breath, afraid to release it and miss something crucial.

“...To run away.” 

Brienne blinked. Then blinked again quite a few times in disbelief. “That…” she began slowly with a frown, “that is your pearl of wisdom?”

“Yes,” said Selwyn quite seriously.

“It is not knightly behavior,” she automatically said, her whole being revolting at the idea. Scandalized that her own father was even thinking about it. She pursed her lips, rebellion clear in every taut line of her body.

“It is actually the knightliest thing you could do,” replied the tall man, “depending on this being’s status, we may be unable to retaliate.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, did this being commit a crime?”

“No. Not that I know of, the pest is actually hailed as quite the hero.”

“Did it kill somebody?” said Selwyn with a hidden smile. It wouldn’t do to irritate his daughter more. But he found her irritation quite cute, hearing her call this person a pest was hilarious.

“Yes, but he was a bad guy,” Brienne said between her teeth, seeming quite unhappy with the fact.

“Did this mysterious person mistreat a woman or a child?” Selwyn continued implacably. But his raised eyebrow showed her that he did this as a formality. She lost her chance to perpetrate unspeakable acts of violence on this person.

“Does letting a woman fall down without trying to help her count?” she asked with a tiny voice, with one last smidgen of hope.

“No,” said Selwyn, deadpan. 

He could see the hope in her eyes die pitifully, ruptured like a sad sack of grain. 

“This creature holds a lot of women in contempt,” she exclaimed, exasperated. She slapped her thighs in anger.

“You do the same,” snorted her father, amused at her agitation. His daughter was mostly sullen when not in the courtyard. Never had he seen her so agitated, and because of another being too. She was generally stuck in her world of chivalry and songs. Selwyn was quite intrigued by now, wanting to meet the fellow who drove his darling girl to such heights of feelings.

She gritted her teeth, “He's following me. It should count, shouldn’t it?” 

Selwyn blinked in surprise. It was a man. A man was behind his daughter's irritation. He opened his mouth with a gasp. He was about to talk but Brienne pushed away from him with a snarl. 

The older man watched with strong interest as his girl got up and began to pace, muttering under her breath, “Dodging my steps… always there… stepping too close and invading my space… making stupid smiling faces at me… waving like an idiot… biting my neck in a spar… draping himself on me when I eat… annoying cockroach… bane of my existence… stupidly handsome…” 

Selwyn’s eyebrows just rose higher with every rant he heard. While some made him frown -- he will have to break some of the lad’s teeth at the breach of propriety. Biting your partner’s skin was quite a fun activity when it was sanctioned by the High Septon. In all other cases, it was a guaranteed one-way road from the cheeky lad’s mouth to the offended father’s meaty fist! -- most showed a clear picture of a lad being strongly attracted to a woman. The last comment showed that his daughter was not totally against it, even if the feeling was buried under heaps of annoyance. Still, it was more attention than she had ever given to another man, Renly not counting for obvious reasons.

Selwyn would be a fool to let this opportunity for a match escape and he was definitely not a fool.

His daughter turned to him once again, “There must be something I can do?”

‘Not if I can help it,’ thought Selwyn. “Did he insult you?”

“No,” she said after some time. Thank the Seven that his sweet child could not lie.

“Then no,” he replied with a shrug.

Brienne nodded. “Then run it is,” she said with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

“Or I could talk with the cad and insist that he act with more decorum,” said Selwyn nonchalantly. “Who offends you so, dearest?” Selwyn held his breath.

“Lord Jaime Lannister,” she mumbled with a pout. 

Selwyn took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. His Brienne had caught the interest of Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, the most coveted man in the Seven Kingdoms and the heir of the House of the Lions.

He resumed the situation, schooling his face to appear neutral and not betray his giddiness, “Well, you cannot kill him. The boy didn't do anything wrong, so you can only run.” She nodded frantically until he raised a hand in the air to stop her. “And you cannot really do that either...”

She opened her eyes and mouth wide and he suspected that she stopped breathing for a moment. “You cannot offend such an important person, darling. If he took shade of your attitude he could ask help from his father and Tarth could be in great danger.”

Brienne deflated with a whine and Selwyn smiled with anticipation. He had to meet this man as soon as possible.

Finally, a man smart enough to see the treasure that was his magnificent daughter! He was beginning to despair. His daughter may want to get rid of this fellow but Selwyn was quite anxious to make the lad stay. He will need to support the enemy on that one… with a friendly reminder to keep his teeth in his mouth and away from his daughter.

>   
**O**h! Alas! While trying to read your answer, nature prevailed and only fire witnessed your wisdom,  
**O**f course, I am sure only good tidings were waiting for me, as you long wished for me to take a woman in my bosom.  
**P**art of me is desolate, but the other part is totally devoted to <s>pursuing</s> courting my bride. On that subject, I shall vanquish and conquer.  
**S**incerely contrite, your devoted first son and heir.

Tywin crushed the parchment in his fist, angry beyond words at this new manifestation of cheek from his oldest son. If the brainless child thought that the distance was enough to spare him a thorough tongue-lashing, he was gravely wrong.

He immediately sat at his desk to compose an answer. That shall not be borne.

He will bring his son to heel, the same way he did for the Reynes of Castemere: by the strength of his fist and the might of the Lannister family behind his back. If he had to chain his son and bring him back to Casterly Rock, he will.

At least, there was some good news to take from this debacle. His son was interested in the fairer sex. He had begun to despair. 

A few letters were quickly penned and given to the maester with an instruction to send a raven immediately to King’s Landing.

Renly searched for his tall friend on his way to the courtyard. He had to intercept her before she got there. He didn’t think she was ready for what awaited her. Looking frantically left and right, he finally saw her about to enter the courtyard. Seeing that he wouldn’t get to her on time, he bellowed, “Lady Brienne.”

She immediately turned her head in his direction and blushed, “Lord Renly.” He sighed in relief when she stepped aside to wait for him and hurried to her.

Ah… The poor girl was as red as a Lannister tapestry. He couldn’t help but grimace slightly. While he didn’t have feelings for her that way, he still cared for her. He knew enough of her to know that she will never tell him her feelings if he never mentioned it. She was kind and demanded only to serve him. He had also promised her father to take her under his wing while they were in King’s Landing and he had accepted. As such, he had to forewarn her.

When he finally got close to her, he took hold of her arm and dragged her between two isolated columns to talk without being heard. “Well met, Lady Brienne. Have you heard?”

He hoped that someone had already explained to her about the situation so he wouldn’t have to. He depleted when she blinked naively at him. “Heard what, my Lord?”

_By the Seven_ he swore in his head. He passed a hand in his hair while he thought about the way to tell her. “My Lady,” he began hesitantly, “I would advise you not to train today of all days.” He knew he had to be blunt for she didn’t care for subtle warnings

"On the contrary, my Lord,” she said with a frown, “I wanted to use my victory against the Kingslayer to sway some of the knights into fighting against me. Those who wouldn’t look at me before may take me more seriously now.” In the end, she sounded almost enthusiastic.

His shoulders dropped. He hated to be the one to announce bad tidings. He took her hands in his, “My Lady, I am afraid that something made this endeavor of yours impossible. You will get nothing but misery if you step in the training yard today.”

Her eyes narrowed and she grew tense, “What do you mean, my Lord?”

He sighed, immensely ill-at-ease, “A tale is sung in the Red Keep.” He looked down with a grimace before looking at her, “that the Maid of Tarth won her fight by foul means.” He used her shock to finish, “That she used a moment of illness to win. Thus she is quite a false knight and should be fought only if one does not care for the honor of its opponent.” The tall girl jerked at that, wounded eyes looking at him with horror. Renly had to admit that the rumor had been tailored for the girl, masterfully made to cut her to the quick.

“Lord Renly,” she begged frantically. No matter her armor and her stature, she looked so girlish in her pained astonishment that Renly felt bad for her. “You know that it is false. You were there. Also, even if it was the case, plenty of dirtier moves had been done to win a fight.” 

He patted her hands clumsily, “It is all quite true,” he watched her smile in relief, “but also very irrelevant.” Her smile faded and despair seemed to seep from her body. She detached her hands from his and sat down on a bench built nearby. He sat near her and forced himself to continue, “Nobles seldom care for the truth. The knights here,” he indicated the training yard with a thrust of his chin, “will care even less. They will be happy to have a reason to give if they lose against you.” He turned to look at her, “You are the only one who cares about that. You and the person who started the rumor.”

Brienne didn’t say anything for a long time. She looked broken and despondent, defeated and Renly didn’t know what to say to help her. She suddenly looked at him, “Why did the Kingslayer do that to me? Is he so craven for losing against a woman? Isn’t he the one who wanted to fight me in the first place? Was it all just a jape?”

Renly pursed his lips. From all he had seen, he didn’t think that Jaime was the culprit. He was not the type to do this kind of thing. As any knight worth his salt, he loved to fight and defeat just meant that he had to train until he won. Even more, the way he acted with Brienne showed that hurting her was the last thing he wanted. Quite the contrary. He was about to say so when he frowned. He still owed the Lannister for tripping Loras and sending Cersei to harass him. He was certain that Cersei wouldn’t have annoyed him if it wasn’t for her damned twin brother.

He looked at the girl’s forlorn eyes. He wanted to help her… but he wanted to hurt the Kingslayer more. Also, it was for her own good. She better stay away from that family. Really, he was actually helping her! 

He shrugged, “He is a Lannister, what do you think?”

Seeing her agreeing whole-heartedly, he couldn’t help but smile vindictively. 

_Ours is the fury_ indeed.

Lady Ballantine took a deep breath. The chaos in the room was immense. Some women were crying, others were beating their chests to show their internal agony, some cried, some were laid on the floor out cold. She thought that the battle of the Trident must have probably looked the same… except less bloody.

At her side, Lady Suze was hearing the last news from a disgruntled Lady Chivas-Regal. She had been in her castle when the Fight had happened and just came back.

“He may have had some difficulties getting up?” Lady Suze asked with a trembling voice, “maybe he threw a muscle on his back?”

“You were not there, poor girl,” said the matron with a sniff, “the only difficulty he had was that he was in breeches. Therefore he couldn’t get his lion’s pride in her vagina!” 

“Lady Chivas, please,” hissed Lady Tequila, “there is no need for vulgarity.”

“I say it as I see it,” the Lady snorted. “I am telling you,” she continued, looking at the pale Lady Suze whose eyes had welled up with tears. “We were that close,” she put the pads of her thumb and index finger near each other, nearly touching, “to see a stallion’s coupling.” 

“Madam!” Lady Ballantine sighed. She didn’t really mind. However, some of their members were still very young. They shouldn’t get their eyes opened by Lady Chivas-Regal who could make officers blush when she swore. Some whispered that she managed a brothel on the side and she could easily believe that.

“Oh! Do shush Mally,” retorted the spirited woman. “I think that Jaime Lannister should be taken from our list. He made it quite clear that he loves them burly and with a mastery of swords of all kinds!”

A new gasp of outrage shook the women and a few even fainted. The richer ones got their friends who brought them salts to revive them. The more modest noblewomen were ignored. 

“Ladies,” bellowed Lady Ballantine to bring some well needed calm back into the room. She looked at Lady Vodka who stood in the middle of the room with her lady friend, the Lady Smirnoff, at her side.

“Could you please repeat what you just said, my Lady,” she said before pursing her lips. She just wanted to be sure that she had heard well.

Lady Vodka nodded but she soon hyperventilated and was saved from fainting by Lady Smirnoff who pushed a paper bag in her hands. The tension rose as the lady calmed down even if she never stopped tearing up for a second.

“He… told… he told us all,” she was panting and Lady Ballantine wanted to shake her until she spoke coherently, “that he bit her on the neck.” A sob burst from her and she continued, “he then draped himself all over her. He told us that they stroke each other with passion and asked if we never saw two people in…” she paused for dramatic effect, “love!” This last word took all her strength and she collapsed over her friend who began to cry too.

Lady Ballantine blanched but stayed strong. They had withered worst storms. Surely, there was no reason to panic just yet.

“You see,” said Lady Chivas-Regal, “we better take him out of the list and concentrate our efforts on-”

“Ladies,” Lady Tequila rose, her cheeks heated and her eyes full of fire, “this attitude will not help us achieve our goals! The war is not lost until the prey is defeated. What I see is a man who shows up a strong attraction to a Lady.” The women gradually calmed down and gave all their attention to the speaker, “It is not done until they are officially betrothed! It is not done until he marries her!” She brought her fist down on the table, making some ladies jump. “I will fight until the end! I am not defeated yet! Are you with me?” 

Lady Ballantine felt her lungs fill with hope. Her friend was right. Nothing was set in stone. A few ladies whooped in agreement but most of them looked skeptical.

Lady Bayleys suddenly entered the room and run towards the Three Judges’ table, colliding with it. She then turned and announced with a big smile, “My fellow members, I have wonderful news. There is a rumor that Lady Brienne won against Jaime Lannister in a most unladylike way by using an illness he had contracted against him. She is quite discriminated against by the nobles right now.” 

Lady Ballantine stood up, “Those are excellent news indeed. My Ladies, let us use this opportunity to drive a wedge between them. Repeat this rumor to anyone you know, from the simplest page to the Queen herself. We will drive the simpleton away and get our Lord Lannister’s heart back! What say you?”

This time, the cry was unanimous, “Ahoo! Ahoo! Ahoo!”

Brienne was sitting on her bed, desolate. She had her moment of glory. If one discounted the humiliating bite he had given her, a part of her had been proud to fight the Kingslayer. To win against him had filled her with an exaltation she had never felt before. While she recognized that she probably won because of a good amount of luck, it was still a win.

Until it wasn’t.

She hadn’t noticed before Renly told her. She was so used to being mocked and disdained that she hadn’t observed that the looks and japes had a different quality to them. A _worse_ quality to them. Nobles were watching her with something like open disgust -- even anger -- instead of the thinly veiled one she was used to. 

She had such hopes that this victory would push other soldiers and knights into fighting her. She will never have another opportunity to fight so many different fighters again and she knew it. She had woken with such enthusiasm, her heart trying to push itself out of her chest in anticipation. Seeing Renly at the gates of the courtyard, him calling for her especially, had been another good omen of wonderful times to come.

Of course, she had been wrong. So wrong… Her whole hopes had been dashed in the few moments it had taken the young man to explain the situation. To think that people believed that she won by using such a dirty trick. That she hadn’t won because of merit or the strength of her arms. To think that they said that she had no honor.

Angry tears filled her eyes, unstoppable no matter how much she tried. She couldn’t stand it. That was the one thing that she couldn’t tolerate. She could take the japes, the disbelief, the insults, the cruelty, the disdain but not the insinuation that she lacked honor.

She put her heads in her hands, muffling her cries and screams. Why did it always happen to her? What has she wanted except some recognition of her skills? It was unfair. She had acted within the code of combat. Some used dirty tactics without being penalized or spit upon but she got no such allowance. She bit her bedding a few times with her fists in pure frustration.

And to think that _He_ had done this. She didn’t understand. Renly had begged her to accept the fight, he had told her how much the other man had wanted to fight her. She had been flattered despite all good sense. He had asked for it. Not her!

She buried her face in her pillow for one last scream. Then all her muscles went loose and she just laid on her bed, exhausted.

What could she do now?

Was there even a point into going to the training yard when all the stupid fighters will mock her even more than before? When they will attribute any win she had to trickery and deception? 

She clenched her hand into a fist. She didn’t know what to do.

Only one thing was certain in her mind. She hated Jaime Lannister and wanted nothing to do with him. Ever. Again.

“You need to eat.”

Jaime harrumphed and turned his head feebly to the other side.

“At least, drink something,” cajoled Tyrion who put a cup of wine under Jaime’s noise. Jaime just sighed pathetically and turned his head away again. Tyrion put his hands on his hips, “You have to take care of yourself. I am afraid that the next time, a skeleton will greet me in your place.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes when Jaime whimpered like a wounded animal. “Jaime, it is ridiculous that someone like you tries to let himself die. If me, a dwarf, can survive then you must too.”

“What is being a dwarf near the pain of being rejected by your soulmate,” sighed Jaime pathetically, “come back when you have real problems, Tyrion.” 

_The nerve_… Tyrion fumed at the answer. Jaime deserved to die. He then breathed hard and let cold hard logic dominate again. If his big brother died, the family fortune will go to Cersei and she will not give him anything but a dagger in the back so… He will let Jaime live, but then he decided that being depressed was no reason to give him shit. He took the heavy tome in his arms and dropped it deliberately on Jaime’s feet.

Jaime howled. Good to know that depression was not immune to pain.

“Why did you drop your book on my feet?” Jaime looked positively feral but Tyrion would take feral over spineless anytime. He could work with that.

“It was not my book,” said Tyrion blandly, “but wisdom entering your body. Wisdom, like truth, always hurts.” 

Jaime had a face of thunder. However, he depleted rapidly. Tyrion came to sit near him and leaned over so his head rested on his big brother’s upper arm. “Heard you had a stomach problem during your fight with the valiant Maid and that was the reason you lost.”

Jaime groaned but didn’t take to the bait. 

“I personally thought you had a problem,” Tyrion couldn’t contain his smirk, “but not in the stomach.” Jaime frowned down at him and Tyrion pursed his lips not to laugh. 

Jaime sighed, the irritation obvious in all the tense lines of his body, “I do have one major problem and its name is Cersei.” Tyrion patted his shoulder in commiseration. 

“Isn’t she the problem of us all, people of the Seven Kingdoms,” said Tyrion with a roll of his eyes. “I understand that she is to thank for this rumor?”

Jaime grunted again, “Yes, our sister is to blame. Her and all the vultures of the Keep.” 

“You always said that they would ruin your life,” he said sagely with a nod of his head, “Congratulations on being right.” Tyrion took a more serious tone when Jaime didn’t laugh at his jape, “How did the gentle Maid react to the news?” 

“She doesn’t want to talk to me, of course,” he grumbled. “She avoids me as if I have greyscale. She was transformed into an object of ridicule because of these odious tongues. I would gladly kill them all and put their slain heads at her feet but she is so elusive those days and I cannot stand it!” 

Tyrion was amazed by the degree of Jaime’s passion. He knew that Jaime would kill whoever she pointed to and it was frightening to realize the depths of his older brother’s love. It was not far from madness. He was only glad that the object of his brother’s affection did not seem to appreciate harm that she could not do physically by herself. He will have to talk to her to verify that she was not another power-hungry woman like his sister.

“To lose the woman of my life because of the sister I fucked when I was young seems like a real divine punishment,” his brother seemed devastated, cut to the heart. And while he personally thought it to be a fitting retribution for Jaime’s faults, he couldn’t bear to see him thus.

“You could still turn it to your advantage,” said Tyrion.

“How?” His big brother rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, a gesture that happened only when stress and tiredness overwhelmed him.

“From what I see, this is the perfect occasion to stick close to the woman of your heart.” When Jaime looked at him uncomprehendingly, Tyrion punched his upper arm. “Think you oaf, would you stay near her, support her, and continue fighting her if she was such a dishonest knight?” Jaime blinked. “If she truly was so undeserving and malicious, would you be kind to her and search her company?” Tyrion took his brother’s closest earlobe between thumb and index and twisted viciously, making Jaime cry. 

“Also, better people talk about her winning the fight with a trick than them talking about you using her as a masturbating tool,” he hissed quietly. The older man had the grace to look ashamed. He twisted the ear again for the principle, earning another screech “Some people may take it badly, like her father for example. And I heard that he is big enough to snap you like a twig.”

Jaime slapped his fingers away from his red ear with a glare. But his face softened quickly and he nodded, “You are right, Tyrion.” He smiled gratefully at his brother, “What would I do without you?”

“Lose the war, obviously,” he snorted. “Luckily, I am on your side. Listen, Jaime,” he took a deep breath, “Cersei tried to separate you by shaming the poor girl, causing her to totally avoid you and breaking your heart. So the logical thing to do to win the war is…” Tyrion looked at Jaime expectantly.

“...to stick to my beloved like tar and mending my heart by obtaining her love,” said Jaime with a growing smile and fire in his eyes. 

“Exactly. That way: you get the girl, you punish the wicked, and I get to laugh myself sick.” He stretched to pat his brother on the head, “I will take a casket of Arbor Gold as payment… and one of your future giant children as a squire.”

Jaime smiled with all his teeth, “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, is that me or they are all crazy? and us with them ^^


End file.
